Fix You
by ImagineDragon Bastille
Summary: "Barton, we have a mission. We need you at base in 20," "Yes sir," he would talk to Coulson about these early phone calls at base. Nine years before the Battle of New York, Agent Clint Barton was sent to kill the Black Widow. The story of how Natalia became Natasha. She has a chance to have a fresh start, but will that really be enough to justify her sins?
1. Prologue

**I started writing this story instead of Demons because I just had more inspiration for this one. I'm not sure if i will continue Demons yet. Since Marvel had not done a Black Widow Movie yet, which i think would be absolutely AMAZING I'm writing this, which basically delves into how she met Clint Barton and her time at SHIELD. In the beginning of each chapter i will put a quote that i think goes with the chapter. The quotes aren't mine, and neither is marvel (cause if i did own Marvel there would be a Black Widow movie). Hope you like this and please review at the end :)**

The body fell to the floor, a look of shock still filling his glassy eyes. A pool of blood stained the creamy, satin sheets of his bed. Natalia lingered a moment, she had escaped the KGB and was making her living as a mercenary. She could rebuild herself as someone better than the recruit in the KGB.

In the KGB she was good, probably one of the best agents. But she was a girl and they had treated her as fragile. They hadn't even scratched the surface was what she was capable of. Why she had gone there after the red room still remained a mystery to her. She had graduated and was sent to the KGB where she was treated like sh*t.

 _Four men advanced on her. All were of muscular build and had a menacing look in their eyes. This was one of the final tests until the graduation, the third of four. This was life or death. She sized them up. Their bulky build would limit their speed, which she planned on employing to her advantage. The red room had drilled three things into her. One: was that she didn't belong; anywhere. Two: Never trust anybody. And three: emotions only get you compromised._

 _One of the men lunged at her with surprising agility. He feinted a punch to her head but when she went to block it he struck her side. A shot of pain erupted in her side but it was soon replaced by adrenaline. The key to her success would be disposing of them one by one. She ran towards one of the men and punched his kidneys. As he instinctively hunched over she kneed his face and he fell to the floor. A meaty forearm crushed against her windpipe. Another set of arms pinned hers together. She tucked her chin to avoid most of the damage, but it would still be bruised. She drew her legs back and kicked at the groin of the man holding her arms who was in front of her. He let go, a string of curses falling form his mouth. The man behind her continued adding pressure to her throat. She drew her arm back and elbowed the soft flesh of his side. Her chin still tucked, she slid out of his grasp and rolled onto the floor, landing in a defensive posture._

 _There were two men still left, one unconscious and one disabled for at least another two minutes. She shuffled towards ones and landed a jab with two rigid fingers. As he was momentarily shocked she wrapped her arm around his neck and snapped it. The remaining man stood on his toes. She eyes him wearily. In a heartbeat he was in front of her and had punched her ribs. She bit back the searing pain that had enveloped that side. She stepped forward so her left foot was in front of his left foot. Pivoting on that foot she placed her right behind him and pulled down on his arm. His momentum from the punch carried him over her knee and slammed him into the ground. Two people stepped out from a door, a man and a woman._

" _Congratulations Natalia, you have only one more test. They led her to a room. Inside was a man tied to a chair with a gag over his mouth and a bag over his head. On a table lay a gun. Natalia swallowed, it was obvious what she had to do. She picked up the gun, the metal heavy but natural in her hands. A moment after the safety was clicked off, a tell tale gunshot rang through the room._

But now, she would be somebody. She wouldn't be an expendable KGB agent. After pensively contemplating for a minute, Natalia reached down with her gloved hand. In her mark's blood she wrote two letters: Black Widow. She had always had a sense of respect for Black Widows, with their lethal venom, intricate webs, and alluring deadliness. This is who she would be. No longer would she be the invisible. Soon, the whole world would know the name Black Widow.


	2. Chapter 1

"Your past does not define you, it prepares you."

Paris, France

By now the name Black Widow had become quite known in the espionage world. All that was known about the Black Widow was that she was female, a deadly enemy, and got the job done. It was simple to construct the Black Widow. After hacking into several Black Market hit lists and disposing off some of their targets and signing it Black Widow, she had made her name.

She would be paid 400 euros for this job. It was a little too shady for her liking, but she couldn't resist a challenge. She had been hired by an unknown source. Her payment would come electronically once she sent her employer a picture, ensuring that she had disposed of her mark.

"One gin and tonic," she ordered.

"Coming right up," his French accent slipping through his English. She was in France, but many of the customers that went to this bar were English. She saw her mark, easy to distinguish with his brown hair, easy going smile, and muscular build. He was a couple feet down the bar form her, talking to a blonde.

"Here you go," the bartender handed he her drink. She slipped into a recently vacated seat and waited. She watched the two in the mirror behind the bar. Soon enough, the girl left and walked towards a door, presumably the restroom. Her target watched her go, eyes traveling downwards as she walked away, hips swinging. Natalia got up and moved closer to him. She positioned herself a few feet away, her back to him.

Soon enough he came up behind her, "Hey," he said, "You got a date?" usually men were not so forthcoming.

"No, I'm here alone,"

"Your American," he stated.

"Yeah, I came here for my 5 year anniversary with my fiancé. Until I caught him sleeping with some b*tch." Natalia accentuated her American accent.

"Well, I'm sure your angry,"

"D*mn right!" she said, allowing emotion to lace her voice. "On OUR anniversary!"

"You could, you know, get back at him," her target said, having obviously used this line on many drunk, brokenhearted girls. Natalia inwardly rolled her eyes, drunk idiots. And he thought he was the one playing _her._ After a couple more drinks she was in a taxi. Its destination, his apartment.

His hand crept up her thigh, under her red dress. She bit down a repulsed shudder. Her lips were locked in a passionate kiss with him. She pulled a knife out of her intricately braided hair. He pushed her against the wall to his bedroom. She wrapped her arm over his shoulder, as if to bring him closer. His breathe stunk of alcohol. She herself wasn't drunk, her enhancers made sure of that. The fumes made her want to gag. In one swift motion she stabbed him. The blade protrude form his back, having impaled his heart. Natalia took out a disposable phone and snapped a picture.

Natalia took a deep breath. The mirrors were still steaming as she got dressed. She had taken a long shower. She usually did so after a mission. As if the hot water could wash away all her sins. Everything she had screwed up. Everyone she had killed.

Natalia tugged at her curls with a towel, walking over to her computer. 400 euros had been added to her fake bank account. He was nothing. Just a man that someone had something against. He was number 19. In only 18 years she had killed 19 people. Natalia slumped on her bed, wanting to sleep, but knowing that only nightmares awaited her there.

Natalia typed on her computer late into the night, searching for other jobs. A sound caught her attention. The bing of the elevator. It was 2:48 am, and the chances of it being a tourist were low. D*mnit, she knew she shouldn't have taken that last job. Natalia quickly tucked a gun in her waistband and grabbed a knife. Mind racing, she grabbed her pillows, save one, and tucked them under her bed. In the dark, it resembled a sleeping person. Satisfied with her quick art, Natalia hid behind her bedroom door.

Her door creaked open. His back to the light, Natalia could see the silhouette of a man, the shadows elongating his body. Natalia conserved all her nervous energy, in case this man turned out to be of exceeding talent. He dug the rubber soles of his shoes into the floor, scarcely making any noise. He peered over the bed, taking in the lumpy form. Natalia saw a gun in his hand. In situations like this, she preferred to not use weapons as they made everything messy.

While the man was still bent over Natalia grabbed his wrist and relieved him of his weapon. It clattered to the floor. He aimed a punch at her head. She Whirled out of the way and blocked it with her right forearm. Her left palm struck his elbow, breaking his arm. With a twist of the arm she forced him to face plant. Natalia planted her knee at the base of his shoulder and pressed more pressure onto his already broken arm.

"Who do you work for?" she hissed. She got no response. Before he could make any vociferous noise that would undoubtedly awaken the oblivious residents, Natalia punch him in the head. His formerly struggling body lay still, unconscious. Natalia heaved him upright into a chair.

The man finally came to an hour and 51 minutes later. He struggled a bit, but it soon became evident his efforts were futile.

"Who do you work for?" Natalia asked. Any trace of emotion erased from her face. The man obstinately remained silent. Natalia circled him, a knife weaving between her fingers.

"What organization?" Natalia asked, circling again.

"You can torture me, kill me, and I will never tell you." The man spit. Natalia grabbed his wrist and twisted it until it broke. "Not an organization," he wheezed, though none of his injuries had damaged his lungs.

"What then?"

"Just a hit. I don't know who." After a moment's contemplation Natalia determined that it didn't really matter who. Knowing that someone wanted her dead didn't come as much of a surprise. With this information she wouldn't change her cautious ways, moving every month or so. She decided to give him a merciful death. She shot him in the heart. He was Number 23.

* * *

3,485 miles away, a man was awakened at 5:27 am. Groggily, he reached for his phone. "Hello," he answered, his tone neutral, despite the early hour.

"Barton, we have a mission. We need you at base in 20,"

"Yes sir," he would talk to Coulson about these early phone calls at base. Clint threw on some clothes and drove to the SHIELD HQ.

"You said you have a mission for me sir?" He asked, walking in Coulson's office.

"Yes," Coulson said, "This is the Black Widow." He slid a folder to Clint. He had heard of the Black Widow, she was an infamous spy. She was responsible for at least 11 deaths. Looking through the folder, it became evident that SHIELD had nearly nothing on her.

Black Widow

Name: unknown

Age:18

Known visited cities: Russia: Moscow, Ireland: Dublin, Ukraine: Odessa

Kill count (minimum): 11

A grainy picture of her showed that she had startling red hair and pale skin. Even in the distorted photo, her beautiful features couldn't be mistaken.

"She's barely 20," Clint exclaimed, looking at Coulson.

"She had been responsible for at _least_ 11 deaths, 2 of those our very own SHIELD agents. Who knows how many people she's killed that we don't know of. She's dangerous. Don't underestimate her."

"Yes sir,"

"We have Intel that suggests that she will be in London on May 23,"

"That's in 2 days sir," Clint said.

"Which is why you're leaving at 1100 this morning." After his briefing Clint drove back to his apartment. The streets only occupied by people who had an early flight, were driving home from a night at the bar, and the occasional homeless man. At his apartment he set his alarm for 9:00 am and, figuring he had another 2 and a half hours of sleep, went to bed.

* * *

"Mind the gap, between the train, and the platform," a woman's voice blared through the intercom. Natalia pulled her jacket tighter, despite London's hot, muggy summers. All around her were the signs of an urban city. The most overpowering smell was cigarette smoke. Tourists walked around in small, reclusive groups. A man was selling trinkets, calling out to the tourists. Natalia walked to a flat she had rented. She drew her key out and unlocked it.

 **Please review, it helps me decide whether or not i should continue writing this story and if you guys like it :)**


	3. Chapter 2

London, England

"Flashbacks of things you don't want to remember"

She walked through the crowded streets of London. The hot, humid summer weather also meant tourists. Natalia browsed through the window shops, her heels clipping on the authentic cobblestones. After this stroll she decided that heels were not the ideal shoes when in London. The unexpected steps and cobblestones proved hazardous to one wearing such heels.

Her target was a lawyer. He was tall with sandy blonde hair. She didn't even know his name. He was a couple meters ahead of her, his brisk walk distinguishing him as a local. He was headed towards his coffee shop. It was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place, somewhere only a select few knew about. She had always visited the shop adjoining it, a bookstore. Its window allowed her to see when he left. After following him for 4 days Natalia had determined that he was a single man, living alone, no children. No daughter.

 _Her target's had their hands behind their head and were on their knees. A man and a girl. A message. Her mission: to eliminate the husband and wife of a French scientist who had refused to comply with the red room's requests._

 _"Please," the man said. "let my daughter go, you may, you can have me, just let he-"_

 _"Shut up," she said. All she had to do was wait for permission to pull the trigger. The girl whimpered on the floor, silent tears falling from her face._

 _She felt nothing. She couldn't even recall what it was to feel. The red room had taken everything form her. She coldly stared at her targets, her gun firm in her hand._

 _"Agent Romanova, go ahead."_

 _"Copy that," she said, glancing at the camera to ensure that it was recording. With an exhale, she shot the man. In her ear she heard the scream of a woman._

 _The girl let out a cry and began to shake uncontrollably. Tears fell from her face onto the carpet underneath her knees. She readjusted her aim and pulled the trigger. Another scream from the woman. The girl fell to the floor next to her father. A pure, innocent look still filling her eyes even in death._

Natalia shook herself from the memory. She hadn't felt anything during that mission. But then, that wasn't really her fault. She glanced at the coffee shop and saw that he was reaching for his bill. She set down the book she had been reading and walked out.

A gentle bump sent warm liquid staining her blouse.

"D*mnit!" She muttered, running a hand through her hair.

"I am so sorry," Her target apologized and looked mortified, not quite sure where to look.

"No, no it's my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Do you know of a place that I could try and clean this up?" she gestured at her chest, a look of absolute distraught covering her face. "This was my mother's who just recently passed… and I just…" She let out a dry sob.

" Of course, of course. In fact, my flat is just around the corner. Here." He led her to his flat.

"Um, the bathroom is just around this corner and the first right. If you need me I'll be in here," He sat down on the edge of his couch.

"Thank you so much," She said, walking out of the bathroom. Her blouse was still somewhat wet but the stain was much better. Her target was sitting where she left him.

"It was no problem." He assured.

"I don't know what I would have done, you're a life saver." Natalia hugged him.

"Oh, your welcome, I'm sure you would've done the same for me," With her hands behind his back Natalia pulled out a knife from her sleeve.

"Yes, I'm sure someone like me would have done that," She whispered in his ear with a hint of sarcasm. Before he could question her meaning she slashed his spinal cord, effectively killing him. He crumpled to the floor, blood staining his white shirt.

* * *

'No. No. No. Don't be stupid.' A man thought to himself as he watched the Black Widow talk with her mark. From the way her shoulders were shaking, she seemed to either be laughing or sobbing hysterically. He couldn't quite tell. He watched as the man led her away.

"Hawkeye, status?" Coulson's voice called through his comm.

"I have eyes on the target."

"Copy that, shoot on sight."

"Yes sir," He followed them around the corner and watched from a rooftop as they entered a building. Frowning slightly, the man positioned himself so he could see all 4 windows on both floors. The Black Widow left her mark sitting on his couch. Several minutes later she emerged. She seemed to be thanking her mark. The man positioned himself to get a clear shot of her. Her hair was blonde and about chin length and she had bangs. Nothing like the vibrant red he had seen in her file.

She hugged her mark. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear her words. He looked down to check his weapons. He couldn't have been busy for more than 2 seconds but when he looked up again, her mark was falling to the floor. A blossom of blood staining his back.

"Sh*t," He swore. Another innocent man dead. He watched the Widow. The innocent, apologetic girl she had been moments ago was gone, replaced with a young woman with a determined, cold look in her eyes. She stalked out of the room; hardly giving the man she had just murdered a second glance.

* * *

Natalia left her target's flat. His body would be found soon enough, and she had been careful to wipe her prints. She would be out of London in a day or so. The underground was bustling with people, if she had been followed, which was unlikely, they would have a h*ll of a hard time following her through this throng.

She sat on a plastic seat of the Underground. A man talking on his cell phone sat next to her, preoccupied with what seemed to be a divorce. A woman rolled in a stroller, cooing at her baby. Two men strolled in who were deep in discussion over a malfunction in their office. Natalia resisted the urge to rub her head. The blonde wig she was wearing was getting increasingly itchy.

Natalia walked down the street. This was her last afternoon in London. She probably wouldn't be back for a while. The aromas of pastries and teas were tainted by the gagging smell of cigarette smoke. All around her cars screeched and honked. The cement grey of the neighborhood seemed to over power the scarce green leaves. She would go to Spain perhaps. Or maybe Eastern Europe.


	4. Chapter 3

"In the End we only regret the chances we didn't take."

"One Jasmine tea please," Natalia ordered. She was still in London. The afternoon before she was due to leave she spotted someone tailing her. She hadn't gotten a full look at them yet, but they were roughly 5'9" or 5'10". She had only glimpsed him and when she turned to get a better look, he had disappeared. So, she opted to stay in London and dispose of this man. Her every move was probably being monitored. Everywhere she had been, eaten, talked to. It was better to dispose of him now. Over the past 5 days she had stayed in public areas and rarely been alone.

A few minutes later she sat with a steaming cup of Jasmine tea in front of her. He was probably watching her right now.

* * *

Clint watched as she sat in the little coffee shop sipping Jasmine tea. He had been tailing her for 4 days and 7 hours. And so far, he had not seen an opportunity to eliminate her with no witnesses or causalities. SHIELD had warned him she was good, but not this good. She covered her footsteps well and seldom went into deserted parts of town. She walked and stood like a local. Like she belonged.

* * *

Natalia looked at her watch she had another 5 minutes before she should leave, she was required to vacate her room in an hour. Leaving only the tea drudges in her cup, Natalia stood up and walked out. Almost instantly she noticed something off. After 10 years in the red room she had learned to trust her instincts. She glanced at the window next to her and got her first good look of the man following her.

He was of average height and broad shouldered. He wore a black leather jacket. She didn't know what exactly told her this was her tail. It may have been the way he was standing or just one too many looks over his shoulder. Whatever it was, it was still fairly subtle.

Natalia hailed a taxi. It being London, one pulled up next to her not 7 seconds later. As she sat down she glanced back and saw the man subtly watching her.

"Where to?" The man said in a bored voice.

"The corner of 5th and Olive Way" Natalia said. She pulled out a case of eye shadow and watched the man get into a grey Honda. He was now four cars behind her. The taxi seemed to go at an agonizing speed.

'D*mn,' thought Natalia as the grey honda steadily caught up. Opening her backpack again she pulled out her widow's bites and slid them onto each wrist. They really had proved useful, though the one downside being they were close contact weapons.

As the taxi rolled to a halt, Natalia leaned forward and electrocuted the ill-fated taxi driver. Just enough to stun him. She pushed him out the door onto the sidewalk and twisted into the driver's seat. There was no doubt the man had seen this. She had to move fast.

The Honda was steadily passing cars behind her and catching up. Natalia took a sharp left into and pulled ahead of several cars. Speeding through Olive Way, Natalia glanced in her review mirror. The grey Honda was still there, doggedly following her. Multitasking furiously, Natalia activated the taxi's GPS while weaving her way through the throng of cars, pushing her way through. Natalia glanced at the GPS. The closest underground station was only 2 blocks away. The street ahead of her was packed with rush hour traffic. Natalia pulled to the side of the curb and got out. The man followed suit.

He was probably only about 10 meters behind her.

She ran to the entrance. It was 5 o'clock and the Underground would be congested with people coming off work. As she entered the throng she slowed her pace and went with the flow. She glanced behind her. The man was nowhere in sight. She kept her head lowered and stayed in a group. Suddenly, the man appeared a few feet behind her. He reached out to grab her but she twisted away and started running. She pushed her way through the people. He was only two paces away, when he slowed down and disappeared again.

Natalia's nerves stayed on end. The man wouldn't have just given up. If he was a mercenary he wouldn't get his money and if he worked directly for an organization he wouldn't merely let her go.

She walked into the lady's room. There, she pulled out a blonde wig and a blue jacket to cover her red shirt. Tucking her widow's bites into her sleeves and a gun into her waistband, along with an assortment of knives, Natalia exited the lady's room a few minutes later.

She boarded the Underground. The floor underneath her shifted as they turned and twisted down the long tunnels. Natalia kept searching the crowd for her assailant. Her blonde wig began to itch. She got off 3 stops later at Lancaster Gate.

"Mind the gap between the train, and the platform." The customary intercom spoke. Natalia walked out into the bright day, in sharp contrast to the underground's artificial light. The cobblestones under her boots were still damp from rain earlier that week.

A shadow passed over her. Looking up, she saw a figure on a rooftop. Natalia started to run; it was doubtless that this was her assailant. She ran past some gates , circling their perimeter and into an alley. She turned a corner to find it a horrifying dead end.

"Sh*t," There was a metal gate blocking it off. She glanced behind her. She couldn't see him, but he couldn't be far behind. Looking for escape, Natalia saw a door close to the gate. She disappeared through it.

Inside was a warehouse. It was filled with crates and boxes. The entire left side of the warehouse was filled with a maze of boilers, probably due to be transported soon. Natalia crept towards them. The warehouse was two stories high, accessible by metal stairs. The seconds floor was mainly for electrical purposes and was composed of grated catwalks. A burst of light from the door interrupted the warehouse's dark, quiet interior. Natalia silently pulled out her gun, crouched on her toes.

He kicked open the door. The two glocks in his hand felt comfortable, but not quit equalling his bow. In these situations however, he thought it best to use guns. The warehouse was quiet. He looked at his watch. He silently crept towards the boilers that took up the left section. If her were hiding in here, he would go there too. He navigated his way through the boilers toward her. She was moving now. Away from him. It was so dark, she probably didn't realize it, but she had backed herself into a corner.

The light emitted a dim, flickering light. 'Sh*t' Natalia thought. She was in a corner. The man had been quiet so far, not giving anything away to his position. She raised her gun. The man leapt from a corner, kicking her gun away, simultaneously fracturing her wrist. She whirled out of the way of his next punch and grabbed his shoulder. As she brought her wrist down to electrocute him he rolled out of the lock and settled into a fighting stance.

She came at him sideways. Kicking him in the stomach, Natalia brought her other leg up and, her weight completely supported by her arm, scissored her legs. He rolled onto his stomach but before he could get up she punched him in the jaw. He rolled out of the way from her next assault, this time with a knife. She slashed at his chest and he jumped back. But as quickly as he had done so he came forward and grabbed her still outreached arm. He crossed it over his body and pulled her closer, almost as if they were hugging. He pulled out a knife of his own and brought it to her back. As he made to slash her spinal cord she twisted, so it only got her side.

Natalia gasped as the blade bit into her skin. Her wrist was throbbing, but it seemed dull and far away compared to the fiery pain consuming side. He was a good fighter.

They stood still for a moment, studying each other. He threw a punch at her face. She swept it to the side and brought him into an arm lock. As she twisted, she kicked his knees. He fell to the floor.

She started running. She didn't care if he ran after her. All she would to is run. From everything. Him, all the people she had killed, her past. Everything. After several meters the footsteps behind her faded. She was still in the warehouse, but now she was completely lost. It was bigger than it had initially looked.

Clint stopped running. He would catch her. She was an excellent fighter. She had a style he had not encountered. It was somehow graceful yet deadly.

In that moment where they had been still, he had seen something inside of her. The way she looked. She looked like a cornered animal. Like she knew this time she couldn't weasel her way out. But what bothered him most was that she didn't seem to care if she died. She was numb. He had been like that. A long time ago. Clint forced the memories away. 'But still,' a part of him mused 'she didn't ask to become this.' He knew enough about the organization she had grown up in had most definitely been brutal.

The thing about thoughts is that once they are thought they can't be unthought. 'She deserves a second chance.' Clint thought. Even as he thought it he tried to un-think it and focus on finding her. He silently skipped over the stairs and in moments saw her form his vantage point. He pulled out his gun. Aiming it at her heart, he determinedly tried to unthink the thought. Without seeming to know what he was doing, Clint lowered his gun and descended down the stairs. He walked so their paths would intersect. He turned a corner and met her.

He slowly raised his hands and bent his knees to set them down on the cement. She watched him warily. With that task done, he backed away from the weapons. His rational side screamed at him and called him an idiot. This was the f*cking Black Widow.

"You have talent," He stated. If he didn't play this right her would die.

"What are you doing?"

"I've been you."

"What?"

"I've seen enough of you to see that you don't like this. You don't like killing people just for money when they may very well be innocent."

"You don't know me," She whispered.

"You never asked to become this right? It wasn't really up to you. It was either kill or be killed, right?"

Natalia stared at him, "yes."

"Well, you sure as h*ll can't change the past, but you can determine you future. You never chose to kill those people, you didn't it to survive."

"You were sent to kill me," Natalia said, suddenly finding an odd sense of relief when she thought about death. "So why are you talking?"

"Because I'm offering you a second chance. A new beginning." Clint could barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. "I work for SHIELD."

At this Natalia smirked, " Well that much was obvious."

"How?"

"Your obviously American. And the only other American agency that's not CIA is SHIELD. And the CIA isn't smart enough to know where I am."

"A new start." Clint repeated.

"What would happen if I defected?"

"You could start over. A new name, new identity. You would be an agent of SHIELD. Well, probably a recruit first." Clint amended "I'm not sure what they would do with you. You would probably be under close guard for several weeks. You'll be under interrogation probably." At this Natalia visibly stiffened. "Meaning someone will asked you questions in a room. No weapons."

"Why?" Natalia said.

"Why what?"

"Why would you offer me this second chance?"

"Honestly, I don't know, but right now I'm figuring that this is an out for you. An out from all the dead innocents. SHIELD isn't perfect, but when we do get a kill mission, it's for a good reason."

"Okay," Even as she said it Natalia told herself to say no. Why would SHIELD take her in? Even if he was telling the truth, what about his organization? But, if he was lying she could find a way to get out. She always had. She would be going straight for once. A new start.

 **Hope you liked this chapter :) as always, reviews are really appreciated and they only take a minute, so please tell me what you think because it really encourages me to keep updating. So if you like this chapter/story so far, please please review :)**


	5. Chapter 4

Fix you chapter 4

"You must make a choice to take a chance or thing will never change."

A guard gripped her arm non-too gently. There were two in front of her, two behind her, and one on either side. She stepped out of the quinjet that had come to extract them. The cuffs on her wrists bit into her skin, causing her broken wrist to ache even more. The wound on her side had been reduced to a dull throb that caused her to wince slightly every time she moved her left side too much. By now the bones would have started mending themselves and side starting to heal with her enhancers speeding up her cell reproduction. Luckily the bone didn't seem to have moved from its place so it wouldn't have to be set into place again.

Her blond hair whipped at her face. She was on some sort of boat. It was smart, not leading her to the main HQ. Her procession led her to a cell. It was a bare little room with a bare cot. They shoved her inside. The sound of locks clicking could be heard. There were 3 cameras in her room, leaving no blind spots. Though she sat in a relaxed position she was tense. What the h*ll had she been thinking?

54 minutes later a man walked in. He wore a suit and had brown hair.

"Hello…?"

"Romanov," She said flatly. If she needed to, making a new person wouldn't be difficult.

"I am Agent Coulson. Please follow me." He had a calm, stoic face. She got up and followed him, surprised that her welcoming committee hadn't joined them, digging their guns into her back.

He showed her to a med bay, "Agent Barton said you had a possibly fractured wrist and a cut on you side. If you don't mind, we can patch that up for you." He gestured for her to sit on the bed. A timid looking nurse came in and silently started to stitch her side up.

"How much blood has she lost?" Coulson asked.

"About a cup," Natalia resisted the urge to fight. She watched the nurse to see if she showed any reaction to the oldness of her wound. It would look about a day or two old by now. If she noticed anything, the nurse stayed silent. Next, the nurse bandaged a wrap over her wrist, stiffening movement.

Leaving the med bay, Coulson led her to a room with two chairs and a desk. Natalia sighed, questions. He gestured for her to sit in a chair.

After she sat he cuffed her wrist to a bar on the table, which in turn was bolted to the floor. "Sorry, just a precaution," Behind her, a mirror took up an entire wall.

"Got some friends watching?" She nodded at the two way mirror.

"The only person behind that mirror is the director. You have my word." Natalia inwardly snorted. People's assurances and 'words' were bullsh*t.

"I am going to ask you a series of questions which you may choose not to answer. But be warned, you're treading on thin ice even being here. So I suggest you tell me." He managed to say this in a genuinely serene tone.

"Alright."

"You are the Black Widow, correct?"

"Yes."

"What is you natural eye color?"

"Green," Natalia said. It was smart of them to ask questions about her first, so if they ever needed to track her they would know what she looked like.

Hair color?"

"Red. This is a wig." Natalia peeled off her wig and set it on the table. Underneath, her red curls lay in a tangle on her back. Coulson just nodded and made a note in a file.

"Do you know of any surviving family members?"

Natalia felt her throat go thick. She had killed them. Her parents. If the red room hadn't wanted her they would still be alive. "No, they're all dead."

"You have a very unique fighting style, where did you train?"

"When I was 5 years old a Russian organization under the KGB recruited me. We were trained in espionage over the course of 10 years."

"We?"

"Other girls were recruited, 57." Natalia said. "Don't worry, I was the only one to survive." She added at the look on Coulson's face when she said there could be others like her.

"Do you know where the red room base is?"

"Well, it _was_ just outside of Salekhard, but it was destroyed."

"How?"

"By a strategically placed bomb."

"And when did you leave the KGB?"

"15 months ago."

"That's not a very long time." In response, Natalia shrugged.

"How many hits have you done both with the KGB and not?" he managed to phrase this in a neutral way. Her SHIELD file probably had some kill count.

"17 hits,"

"How many people have you…?" Coulson trailed off. 'Killed?' Natalia thought. '24.' 24 deaths directly on her hands. And that was not counting the casualties. With casualties it was around 31. Natalia remained silent.

"Does it matter?" her voice edged onto defensive.

"Please answer the question."

"31," She whispered. Well masked regret on her face. She cleared her throat, "Including casualties."

"I see, and how many were while you were an Agent for the KGB?"

"9."

"And while you a mercenary?"

"8."

Coulson frowned, "Miss Romanov, that is only 17 deaths."

"I am including both while I was in the Red Room and casualties."

She hated these d*mned questions. They were too close to her. She could answer 100 questions on an alias. But she hated talking about herself.

This was the most she had ever revealed about herself. She had never trusted anyone enough. Not that she trusted SHIELD, but right now telling the truth was her only option. And if she did decided to become and agent, lying would not really gain their trust very well. She didn't know what to do. The way she saw it, she had two options: escape from SHIELD and be on their radar until she was dead, or defect and become and agent. As of the moment the latter seemed more optimal, slightly

"Miss Romanov?" Coulson said.

"…Yes?" Natalia had completely missed the following question with her inner debate.

"Why did you go with Agent Barton when, according to him, you were armed and he was not. You were obviously not forced."

"I chose to come with him because if I didn't, SHIELD or some other organization would just track me again, I might escape and go off the grid, but soon enough they would find me again. It's a never ending loop. Believe me, I've been doing it long enough to know. Only, someday, I know I won't escape. So, SHIELD was a way out, I decided to take it." She had been taking a chance, choosing to surrender herself to SHIELD. But then again, if everything turned out, it would be better than the life she had been living. She just had to have faith.

Coulson nodded. "I think that's enough for today. Thank you for you honesty."

* * *

"Director Fury, you are proposing that we recruit a known threat to SHIELD who was on our hit list just days ago. Why?" Councilwoman Holly questioned.

"Agent Barton recruited her to SHIELD. I trust Agent Barton's judgment. She came willingly and chose to come. H*ll, when she made her decision she was armed and he was not."

"She could pose a threat to SHIELD. She could be a double agent. And thanks to Agent Barton, she is now within SHIELD."

"I watched her interrogation not 15 minutes ago," Fury growled. "When Coulson asked her why she chose to defect, she sure as H*ll wasn't lying. I can tell you that much."

"She was trained to tell lies."

"She also bombed a KGB branch and left the KGB to work alone. I believe she killed to survive."

"That doesn't justify the death's on her hands. Innocent ones."

"I watched her answer the questions. She told Agent Coulson why she came with Agent Barton. She said she came because she wanted an out. She wanted to stop running." The council talked in their own link, excluding the Director.

"We have come to a decision. We have voted to let her become an recruit. However, she will be on probation until we say so and her every move will be monitored."

 **Hope you liked this chapter, reviews are always appreciated :)**


	6. Chapter 5

"Although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can make a brand new ending"

 _She was walking through the halls of the red room. The dull, grey monotonous appearance was replaced with white. She was following a woman and a man: Halfrid and Ivan. She had always found irony in Halrfid's name, as it was from German descent it meant peaceful heroine._

" _Come Natalia, It is time, for… improvements." Halfrid called her through a door. In it was a room of white that held a hospital bed and a table. Her nerves were shot with adrenaline as she saw thick leather straps attached to the bed. Her conscious screaming otherwise, she climbed obediently into the bed. Two guards leaned over and strapped her down._

" _Today you will be injected with two serums." Ivan said, "The first one will… sterilize you." She felt the leather cuffs grind into her wrists. "The seconds one is called an enhancer. It will speed up the rate you heal by twice the amount of time as the average person." A man in a white coat filled a syringe with a clear liquid and she felt the needle pierce her arm._

Natalia was awakened to the sound of her door opening, blinking away her nightmare. The vividness of her nightmare had caused her to miss earlier cues that someone was approaching her cell. Her door unbolted and the man from before, Coulson, appeared.

"If you would follow me Ms. Romanov," he said. There were just two guards that silently followed her. As they walked down the halls it became evident that they were not going to the same room as before.

"Ms. Romanov." Natalia stood before a man who seemed to have an air of authority. "I am Director Fury." Natalia nodded in acknowledgement. "You've been on our radar for quite sometime, especially after Riyadh. In fact, you managed to make it to the top of our hit list. Agent Barton, however, thought you deserved a second chance. The council has decided that you may become an recruit of SHILED." Natalia looked up at him. "Agent Barton is now your supervising officer. He will oversee your training and be responsible for you. Of course, you will be under _very_ close supervision and will be permitted to have an agent accompany you outside of SHIELD bases. Step a toe out of line and you are back on the hit list." He said.

"Yes sir," Natalia said. Part of her was relieved; she hadn't been a complete fool and handed herself over just to be killed. But part of her was doubtful; why would SHIELD accept her? Conclusively, Natalia decided that she would stay with SHIELD and all their ridiculous protocols.

She was with Coulson again. Except this time, she was not cuffed to a table and there was no one-way mirror.

He took out a paper from a file. "Your name is pretty well known across the globe, here we have your name as Natalia Romanov. This is strongly recommended, but if you wish to, you may keep your current name. Here list of recommended names that are somewhat close to you name right now." He handed her a list of first and last names. First names: Natalie, Natasha, Nancy, Naomi, Nicole. Last names: Romanilly, Raymond, Rushman, Ramano, Romanoff, Ramiro. "Take your time,"

Natalia thought. She did not like Nancy or Nicole. Something about those names didn't seem right for her. That left Natalie, Natasha, and Naomi. The obvious choice would be Natalie since it was so close to her name. But that was the exact reason Natalie was out of the running.

Natasha. Natasha was somewhat close to Natalia, but different to remind her that she was starting new. A clean slate. Natasha.

She scanned the list of last names. Natasha Romanilly. No. Raymond, no. Ramano, no. Rushman, maybe. Romanoff, maybe. Ramiro, no. Natasha Romanoff. That had a nice ring to it. Natasha Rushman. Good, but not as good.

"Natasha Romanoff," she said firmly.

"You sure," Coulson said, a smile hinting his lips, "You only get to pick once." Natasha stared at him.

"Yes,"

Coulson smiled like he couldn't contain something any longer. "Sorry, I've had a lot of free time lately and I just read _Divergent_." Natasha stared at him. He cleared his throat and returned to business. "The following questions will go in your SHIELD file under Natasha Romanoff. Age?"

"About 19 I think."

"You think?"

"I am not exactly sure."

"So I take it then you don't know your birthday."

"No,"

"Well, that was the next question. That's okay, we can run some blood work that will tell us." Natasha stared blankly at him. She had never before had a cause to know her birthday. After a minute of silence Coulson said, "Natural eye color?"

"Green,"

"Hair color?"

"Red,"

"Where were you born?"

Natasha swallowed, "Just outside of Volgograd." The questions went on for another hour before they came to a halt. Some were obscure, such as the question asking anywhere she had ever been. Others, were more… personal and brought up her past, which on a whole she generally preferred to avoid.

"This is Medical," Coulson said, leading her to anew section of the base. "Every base has a Medical, you come here after a mission is your injured." Natasha held back and instinctive cringe. She hated hospitals. She sat on a hospital bed as a nurse drew up her blood.

"The results will be ready in a day or so," The nurse said.

"Great," Coulson said, as they walked out.

"This is your room for now. You are a recruit, but not a level one agent. That means that your S.O, Agent Barton, will be responsible for your training. Three times a week you are to attend a mandatory training session that covers basic material. When you become a level one agent is up to your handler, which is me." Natasha nodded.

* * *

"Throughout this course you will learn basic abilities in order to be an agent. I am agent Tayler." Natasha stood amidst about 20 other recruits ranging from the ages of 22 to 26. She was easily the youngest. "Any questions?" Evidently there were not as nobody spoke up. "Today we will cover guns." The entirety of the lesson bored the h*ll out of Natasha. She had done this by the time she was 8, ambidextrously. She stood in front of the target, about 20 feet in front of her. She gripped her gun and fired it at the target but all of a sudden, a man was standing there.

 _Her mission was to eliminate a businessman. He was getting out of his Mercedes. It was late at night and there wasn't a soul in sight. This was her opportunity. She inhaled and aimed her gun at his chest. As she exhaled she pulled against the trigger. As the bullet was expelled from her gun a man appeared from behind a corner. He hadn't been there a moment ago. He walked unknowingly into the bullet's path and fell to the ground. She blinked. He was dead. He was innocent._

Natasha blinked and brought herself back to reality. She had only been standing still for a moment or two, but the memory of the bullet hitting the man was still fresh in her mind.


	7. Chapter 6

"Face your past without regret and you present with confidence"

A bead of sweat trickled down her neck as she punched the bag in front of her. Slightly readjusting her stance she punched it again, with much more vigor. With this last punch her unwrapped knuckles cracked and a blotch of blood appeared, seeming to soak out of her pores. An icy expression covered Natasha's face as she punched it once more, the bag smeared with blood. Pausing only a moment to wrap her knuckles to keep blood from getting onto the bag Natasha attacked the bag with much more vigor. A concentrated look was fixed on her features, her mind absorbed in a whole other place.

 _She walked into the training room. Around her the din of chatter came to a stop. Eyes trained ahead, she saw others look at her, a look of disgust covering their faces. Dread fell on her like a cloud. They knew. Of course they knew. She would have been a fool to think that she could get away with this. That she could get away from her past. Ignoring the glares, she stared obstinately ahead._

" _Why the h*ll do you think you belong here?" A bold girl asked._

 _Natasha ignored her. She would have retorted some nasty comment but in the end it would only make her situation worse. No, the way to retaliate was to be the best. Then nobody would challenge her. She had been accepted into SHIELD, but she would have to earn their respect and trust._

" _I mean," a guy continued, "SHIELD is supposed to protect the world from people like you. Not invite them into their program." The whispers started again. Sometimes she only caught a couple words, but others were not so quiet about their theories._

" _I heard that she slept with Agent Barton, that's why he brought her in." Another girl whispered to the guy next to her._

" _Yeah, but Barton's level 6 agent, Would he really do that?" Natasha rolled her eyes, when would the d*mn instructor come? Despite her nonchalance about the whole affair, she couldn't help but asker herself: why was she here? She had come to start over, to start clean. But really, in the end, she was still a murderer. She could never run away from her past._

"Hey," a voice behind her spoke, startling Natasha out of her thoughts. She spun around. It was Barton. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you, but I just thought, since everyone else is probably too scared to spar with you I would."

Natasha blinked. "Okay." She followed him to a mat. "When do we stop?" Part of her expected him to say death. That's what happened in the red room. If you weren't strong enough to fight, you were cut from the program.

"When one of us taps out."

"Right." They settled into fixed, poised postures.

Her red hair fell form her ponytail to just underneath her shoulders. Her brow was already somewhat sweaty from her earlier work out, but somehow he doubted she was tired. She wore a grey SHIELD shirt. For some reason the look, the logo didn't even seem unnatural on her. Under the calculating, calm in her eyes he thought he saw a glimpse of fear. 'What is she afraid of?' he thought.

His knees were bent slightly. He wore a plain, black t-shirt and underneath she could see the muscularity of his arms. Shooting a bow and arrow must give you a muscular build she supposed. His hands held a relaxed position, hovering above his chest. His weight was chiefly on his back foot. He was ready to defend, not attack. His eyes held a determined, soft look. The blueness piercing.

Natasha was the first to attack. She made to punch his midsection, but her strike was blocked by his forearm. As he blocked it, he straight punched towards her face. She swept it to the side, and, all in one motion, had wrapped her arm around his and locked his elbow in place. His back to her, he reached with his free arm and grabbed hold of her hand. Using leverage, he placed his palm to the back of her hand. He wrenched her wrist into a lock, which pulled her balance backward. Taking a step back she let go of his arm.

They settled again into fighting stances, knees slightly bent. This time he was the first on to strike. He came with an overhead punch. Ducking to the side slightly, she blocked it and tried to twist it into a lock. He countered by turning behind her. She spun around and kicked him in the thigh before he was far behind her. He grabbed her lapels with one hand. She punched his hand with a knuckle and he let go. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw his hand come up and ducked, his fist whistling past her temple. Using the momentum from the punch, she turned so her back was against his chest. Twisting his wrist she twisted it forward, applying a wrist and arm bar. He wrapped his free hand around her neck, cutting off her windpipe. With her left hand, the hand not applying the bar, she groped around for a way to escape his grasp.

Her body was growing panicked. She couldn't get out. His hold was too firm on her. She wouldn't. She couldn't kill. As she started to go in overdrive her mind began to lose control of her body. Her breaths grew short. Drawing her elbow back she elbowed him in the ribs, sharply. His grip faltered a bit and she slipped out.

As they faced off for the third time, He said, "Sh*t, you hit hard." Of course, he hadn't expected any less. He glanced at the clock, "I need to go. But we can spar later?" Before she could question him as to why he had to go, he left. Natasha stared at him as the door closed. She had almost lost control. Almost. But she hadn't. Natasha grabbed her water bottle and walked out after him.

In Natasha's room there was a bathroom, which held a shower, sink, toilet, and cabinet. Sitting against the wall of her room was a desk. Natasha was a fairly neat person. On top of the desk lay her SHIELD issued cell phone and a glock 42 which she removed form her waistband before she went to the gym. Across from her desk lay a bed. It was on this bed that Natasha laid after her shower. She was tired. Nearly everywhere she went dirty, loathing looks were shot her way. Not long after she curled up on her bed she fell into a light sleep.

 **Hope you liked it. Constructive criticism and plot ideas are always welcome, so tell me what you think :)**


	8. Chapter 7

"People fail to get along because they fear each other; they fear each other because they don't know each other; they don't know each other because they have not communicated with each other."

"Romanoff, Barton." Fury nodded at them each respectively. It had been six weeks since Natasha had become a recruit. Six h*llish weeks for both of them. Three days a week Natasha attended a mandatory basic material session. Which greatly insulted her skills in combat, sharpshooting, and espionage in general. In the session she was surrounded by a crowd of inexperienced, loud recruits, all of whom had a great distaste for her, probably due to her past. Even outside of the training room, agents still shot her glares and derogatory comments. The only peace she found during those six weeks was in the training room, alone.

The six weeks did not pass very happily for Barton either. When he was not in a meeting with Fury and other superiors discussing Natasha or filling out paper work, he spent his time between the training room and the vents, dwelling on the fact that he was stuck on base. The training room kept him occupied, but there are a limited number of hours one can spend in the there before getting bored out of the mind.

"We have a mission for you," Barton, having overheard Fury already discuss this, wasn't surprised. It was most likely to see Natasha perform. It was easily a level one mission. Maybe two.

"This is Mateja Pavlovic. We have acquired intel that he is behind the murder of two high ranking politicians." Fury continued. "This is not a kill order. We just need to get solid evidence; all we have right now is circumstantial. We need you to extract the information from him without his knowing. Also, this is a strictly covert operation, so you two will be flying there on a commercial jet. No you may not bring weapons aboard with you, but we can send you some. You leave tomorrow at 900." They both nodded. Natasha had a set look in her jaw.

As they both made to leave Fury called Natasha back, "One more thing Romanoff." He said as the door shut, Barton having walked through it. "You are still on thin ice. Just because you have a mission doesn't mean we trust you."

"Yes sir," Natasha nodded. She knew this. SHIELD wouldn't automatically trust her after six months. Not after what she had done. No, she couldn't screw this up.

"You are also under Barton's orders. He is the commanding officer in this mission, so you are not to disobey him." Natasha gave a slight nod in response.

As he watched her leave Fury sincerely hoped she wasn't a double agent. Not just for the sake of the SHIELD, but for her. He had seen the look of relief in her eyes when he said it wasn't a kill order. Maybe she didn't want to kill anymore. Maybe it was that she didn't want SHIELD to see any more of that side of her. Or maybe it was a mix of both, or neither. He sat back in his chair and sighed, he would just have to wait and see.

* * *

Belgrade, Serbia

Matejo Pavlovic lived in one of the wealthier homes in Belgrade, a city of nearly 1.4 million. The source of his fortune was chiefly a result of his inheritance of family money and the business. Pavlovic would have been fairly wealthy even if he didn't own the oil company his family had owned for two generations, but he liked his expensive vacations to the Caribbean. Pavlovic didn't have an over abundance of motivation to get up early each day and go to the company, but he did so anyway. There were so many truculent characters these days and if he didn't show up there would probably be a mutiny of some sort. So, he woke up early each day and drove to the company.

Natasha and Barton arrived in Belgrade at 8:00 pm, after nearly 24 hours of traveling. Jetlagged and cranky, they checked into their hotel. The hotel they were staying at happened to have a big wedding reception the night they checked in. Needless to say, neither got much sleep that night.

"So, Pavlovic owns an oil company. Why would he want to kill two politicians?" Barton said, typing away at his laptop. Natasha stayed silent, absorbed in her thoughts. "Ha," Barton smirked, "I ran a check of both politician's positions on oil drilling, and both were vehement anti-oil figures. One was campaigning to slowly eradicate the use of oil completely. And the other was threatening to sue Pavlovic's company."

"So, Pavlovic put a kill order on them. But who did he hire? A man like him doesn't have full time mercenaries working for him. So it would be a one time thing." Natasha said.

"He might,"

"Trust me, he isn't the type," Natasha said.

"Okay, then we can check his bank account, see if there were any big withdrawals within the past…" He checked his laptop, "2 months. That's when the first one was murdered."

"Okay," Natasha said, grateful that he had dropped the subject. Of course she would know who was the type to hire one hit mercenaries, she used to be one. Barton studied her out of the corner of his eye. She was much more compliant then he had anticipated. He had expected her to challenge him at everything.

"What bank does he use?" He asked. He was met with silence, which he rightly interpreted as her not knowing.

After a moment of contemplation she said, "Well, he's pretty wealthy, so that would narrow it down to top ten best banks in Belgrade?"

"Sure." Though they both were working diligently and compliantly with each other, neither were used to voicing their theories or ways of thinking. Barton searched the ten wealthiest banks in Belgrade.

"Wait," she said, "That one, the Banca Intesa. I saw their logo on one of their papers."

"Can you hack into his account?"

Natasha took his place at the laptop. He watched her type on the keyboard. Her focus seemed solely on the screen. Eyes still trained on her task she tucked a red curl behind her ear. Barton sat on the bed, twirling a knife in his fingers, waiting for her to complete her hack.

After 20 minutes she sat up straighter, "Here, all his transactions within the past 4 months." Peering over her shoulder they began their search for any abnormal transactions.

"What about that?" he said, pointing to one 2 weeks following the first politician's death.

"One to a person under the name of Allen Baker?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Wait, that name seems familiar," She said. He looked at her for an elaboration. "He's definitely a hit man." Once she had had a hit on him but decided not to do the job. "His name is Martin Perez, but he goes by Allen Baker."

"You think he did both?"

"Probably."

"So now we try and find any record officially linking the two." Barton said. Natasha nodded.

"I can probably keep him busy if you want to search is house."

"No," Barton said firmly.

"Why not?" She challenged, knowing full well it was because he didn't trust her.

"Because honestly, now would be a pretty good time for you to run off. And, seeing as _I_ was the one who brought you in, I would probably get my *ss chewed off for losing you." Barton said. "So no, we're not doing that." Natasha rolled her eyes. He was being so _petty_. If she were to run off, she would have done it by now. She had already seen at least six opportunities. And furthermore, he was more concerned about what would happen to him when they got back than the mission.

"What do you think we should do then?"

"I don't know. We can go in, but make sure he's busy first." He said. 'Great, leave our fate depending on whether he's busy,' Natasha thought. "We can figure out the details tomorrow," Barton said, running a hand through his hair. Natasha silently went into the bathroom and came out several minutes later, her hair now damp. No more words exchanged, Natasha climbed into her bed.

As her head hit the soft pillow, Natasha instantly felt a sense of dread. For most people dreams were a sort of sanctuary. A kind of break from reality. And even if it was a bad one, you always woke up. Her eyes grew heavy and despite the will of her mind she fell into a dream.

 _She was in a pitch-black room. Swallowing, she knew what dream she was reliving. Crouching in a defensive posture she stay rigid. Across the room to her left the safety of a gun clicked off. She stayed perfectly still, her ears straining to pick up any other noises. She knew that there were at least 4 other girls in the room with her. That was how it had always been. They would put one girl with a gun in a pitch-black room with 4 other unarmed girls. The four girls had to survive for 20 minutes without getting shot._

 _The darkness seemed to completely envelop her. Somehow the air felt thicker and seemed to crush her. Its presence was always there and suffocating, but at the same time too open. Her nerves stood on end, catching more things now that her eyes were blind in this darkness. Subconsciously, her breaths had become quieter and more shallow._

 _She started moving to her left, aware that any slight sound could be fatal. She was crouched on her toes and fingers. Her muscles began to ache from this tense posture, but she ignored it. The pain was temporary, death was not._

 _The silence began to suffocate her. She began to wonder if there was anyone in the room with her. Her ears vainly tried to pick up any noise, and clue that would tell her where the others were. As she settled into the silence she heard a rustle of cloth about 2 meters to her right. Closing her eyes she waited for the gunshot, which soon came. A body crumpled to the floor._

 _She wondered who it was. She wouldn't find out. Not until a cot was dragged away in their room. She wondered who was behind the gun, pulling the trigger. Of course, she herself had been the one behind the gun, listening, hunting for the other girls in the room. Even in her dream state Natasha tried to convince herself she had felt remorse at the time. But deep down she knew that that day, when she was 13, she had actually liked the little game of cat and mouse when she was the one with the gun._

Natasha woke up sweaty. She didn't want to look at the clock; she didn't want to know how long she had been dreaming. But curiosity over came her and she discovered that it was 4:37 am. Laying on her back Natasha stared at the ceiling, knowing it was futile to go back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 8

"When trust improves, moods improve"

Barton rolled over in his bed. He had been sleeping lightly. Very lightly. Who wouldn't with the Black Widow a mere 4 yards from him? His internal clock told him it about 3:30 am, give or take a few minutes. Given the time, it was silent throughout the whole room, probably the whole building. Of course, there was the constant hum of the building, the room. The air vent made a continuous, soft rattle, constantly fighting old age and rust to send cool air to its inhabitants. Every now and then a car would drive by, rolling over a pothole or revving its engine. Natasha's soft breathing could be heard, slow and constant. He listened to these lulling, monotonous noises as he tried to fall asleep again. He listened to the air vent, an occasional car, Natasha's breathing.

As he tried to lull himself to sleep, he noticed an anomaly in the noises. It took him a moment to distinguish the anomaly, but as he listened he determined that it was Natasha's breathing. It had grown shallow. He listened more intently. Her breaths were quiet, and after a while they became steady again.

"I have breakfast." Clint said. He had gotten out of bed before Natasha, whom he had suspected had been awake long before she left her bed. In his hands were two cups of coffee and two muffins.

"Thanks," She said, no meaning behind her words. Of course, nearly every conversation they had exchanged her words seemed empty, wary. They sat the circular table in their room. Natasha took a sip of her coffee, drinking it slowly. After two sips she set her cup down. She picked up the muffin and bit into it. After chewing it and swallowing it she set it down. Glancing at her watch she got up from the table. Barton watched her stand up. Natasha walked into the bathroom. There, she leaned against the wall, probing for any light-headedness in her body. Any sign that the food had been drugged. She glanced at her watched again, 3 more minutes.

Natasha studied at herself in the mirror, staring at the person in the reflection. She didn't know what she saw. The girl in the mirror had the same curly, red hair. The same green grey eyes. The same features as she did. But somehow, that wasn't her. The person staring back at the mirror was a whole different person. That person was the cold, assassin. The girl who had killed without thinking. The girl who had been raised to fight, to kill. That person was the Black Widow, a girl who had sought to make a name for herself, at the price of innocent lives. Natasha stared into her green grey eyes and set her jaw. She would be different now. She would. And joining SHIELD had been taking a step closer.

Natasha glanced at her watch. 2 minutes to go. She walked out of the bathroom and to her bed. She reached underneath the mattress and pulled out a knife as additional protection. Of course, there were already 3 tucked in her clothes. 1 more minute. Natasha opened her bag and pretended to search for something. After several moments of shuffling around in her bag she returned to the table.

"You know, the food isn't drugged." Barton said, obviously having caught on to her stalling.

"You never know," She replied.

"Pavlovic just booked a reservation at a restaurant, presumably for his wife's birthday, according to facebook." Natasha said.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night at 6:00 pm at Šaran."

"We can go in the restaurant and plant this," He held up a small rectangle, about the size of a piece of gum. "SHILELD tech. Inside the wrapper is a sticky audio recorder, made to look like,"

"Gum," Natasha smiled.

"Exactly."

"There's a slight catch," Natasha said.

"What?"

"Well, the restaurant is a couple restaurant, judging from the reviews and pictures. Nearly every table is a couple table."

"Well," Barton said, "I suppose we'll have to be a couple for a couple hours."

"I suppose so,"

The restaurant Šaran was a high-end restaurant and required opulent clothing to fit in with its costumers. Natasha had slipped into a deep red dress that went just past her knees. Her hair was in an elegant half bun so her curls hung down. She had embellished her outfit with a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Barton simply wore a tuxedo.

"Reservation?" The hostess inquired.

"Stankic," Barton smoothly replied.

She checked her registry and looked back up, "Right this way," She led them to a table in the corner.

Dinner passed with convincing talk concealing the well hidden frustration of both parties. As she smiled Natasha was annoyed that they had to do this whole process in the first place. It would have been more efficient to have one it her way. Barton inwardly sighed as he stared at Natasha. If he looked closely enough, he could see through her happy façade. They left the restaurant, the sticky gum in place, two hours later.

"There he is," Natasha breathed in his ear. "8 o'clock, the man in the fedora,"

"Well, I don't think we have to worry about him not coming at all," Natasha said. Barton silently nodded in agreement.

"What the h*ll are we even looking for?" Barton asked. It had been an hour and a half since they had disabled the security systems and had begun their search.

"Incriminating evidence," Natasha replied, her voice laced with annoyance. He knew d*mn well what they were looking for, he was just impatient. Natasha sat back onto her heels after examining a drawer of files. They just had to narrow the number of places where evidence could be down. She took out a circular device about the size of her palm and opened it up. Inside was a small screen. Natasha held it up and scanned the walls. Infrared and x-ray scans lit the screen up. Natasha scanned the entire room before moving onto the next one.

"Here," She called.

"What?" Barton asked, walking into the room she was in.

"Behind this shelf there's a lining of lead, probably a safe." Barton pushed the shelf aside.

"Up a little," She said. He moved his hand up. "There." He pressed against the white plaster wall and it swung open.

"Find anything valuable. We need to get out of here." Natasha moved to face away from him.

"There are couple of what seems to be old record players, and this." Barton held up a small flash drive."

"Mission report," Coulson's voice asked over the phone. It was the morning after their search of Pavlovic's house.

"We have obtained a flash drive that carries all of Pavlovic's interaction with a mercenary."

"Copy that, be ready for extraction at 1700." Barton hung up.

"Extraction at 7:00,"


	10. Chapter 9

**...Sorry for not updating in a while. The end of my summer was really busy, and school just started up again *gag face*. anyways, hope you like this chapter. Please please review at the end, it really helps me update sooner :)**

"We might be the master of our own thoughts, but we are still the slaves of our own emotions"

Six months later

 _She was walking through the halls of a KGB base. It was an underground one and therefore required lighting. For having a renowned reputation across the world, this particular base sorely lacked adequate maintenance. She looked down at her attire and saw she was wearing black leggings and a black shirt. Her red hair was tied back into a ponytail. Her feet took her to a well-known room. Ivan's office._

" _Agent Romanov," Ivan. She swallowed. "What were your mission parameters?_

" _My mission was to gain Alarick Halle's trust over the course of three months. And when the order came, to terminate him and his family." The words came tumbling out of her mouth._

" _In you mission report it was stated that his daughter was not killed. You were to kill the family correct?"_

" _Yes,"_

" _Then why," Ivan's voice grew quiet. "Was the daughter not killed?"_

" _She suffered severe brain damage. It was unlikely she would ever recover. She is currently in a psychiatric ward."_

" _You have not answered the question, Why was she not terminated?"_

" _I thought that since sh-" She began._

" _You think too much." Ivan nodded to his assistant "Wipe her." Before she could protest two burly men forced her down onto a surgery table, complete with Velcro leather straps._

 _A sense of dread overcame her entire body, seeping into her bones. She felt resigned to her fate. There was no way to escape this. Soon, she wouldn't feel again. When they wiped her she felt nothing. Only pain. It was as if she went numb, void of any emotion. Sooner or later, after about a month, she would start to get better. But then they would wiped her again._

 _Offering little resistance, she allowed herself to be strapped down and a piece of cloth stuck in her mouth. She bit down onto it. Her teeth began to ache from the pressure._

" _This is for your own good Natalia. So you may serve your country." Ivan said as he attached electrodes to her head. The sticky adhesive stuck to her forehead. He turned to a black box with dials._

" _Pain is good Natalia. You must learn to yield to it." He flipped a switch and she felt the electricity began to course through her brain. She bit down harder onto the cloth. Her left arm spasmed against the restraint and her muscles involuntarily strained and contorted to escape the restraints._

" _Yield to the pain Natalia. Yield and you will be free." Ivan said as she convulsed on the table. A shooting pain consumed her entire body. It felt as if her organs were on fire and her bones were being crushed. She continued thrashing._

" _Sir, she's becoming unst-"_

" _You will stop only when I say so. Natalia, the more you resist the pain, the worse it is. Embrace it. Yield and you will be free." Ivan repeated. "You do want to be free don't you?" His voice had become a monotonous chant and seemed faraway and thick. "Yield and you will be free."_

Natasha bolted upright in her bed. She had a hand around a knife, ready to defend herself. But as it turned out, the only thing she needed defending from was her past. Taking a deep breath Natasha across her slightly sweating forehead. Laying back on her bed she tried to forget. She tried to forget the wiping. The blankness that she felt every time they wiped her. The emotionlessness. The absence on her own thoughts. Natasha was naturally a very stoic person and the wipings only made her more closed. Even when she wasn't wiped she was usually able to keep her face void of any emotion.

Natasha swung her feet to land on the floor and stood up. It was 4:25 and she wouldn't be falling back to sleep again. She changed out of her sleeping clothes and headed to the gym.

Natasha was at the gym for an hour and a half, alternating between the punching bag, shooting range, and simulators. She was currently beating the punching bag when her phone buzzed once. Taking a moment to steady the punching bag she walked over to her phone. Mission Alert: Report to Agent Coulson's office for further debriefing. Natasha took a ten-minute detour to take a quick shower and headed to Coulson's office. When she arrived, she saw the familiar figure of Barton. On her whole 3 missions at SHIELD she had been with Barton, so she was not surprised to see him there.

"Barton, Romanoff." Coulson nodded to them each respectively. "You'll be flying to Kiev, Ukraine. It's just a standard op, in and out. You leave in 30 and will receive further details on the quinjet."

"Yes sir," they both replied.

"This man is Simon Gerard." Coulson displayed the image. "An assassin that has taken out two of our agents. This is what was left of them." Couslon showed a photo of a mangled body. Lacerations and bruises covering the entirety of the agent's body.

"Take him out before he takes out us." Barton said.

"Right, if this op goes sour, you go off the grid and call for extraction. No risks, understand?"

"Yes sir,"

"Drop zone in 10." The pilot said over the intercom.

They landed just outside of Kiev, about a mile form the house Gerard was staying in.

"I'm sending a blueprint to your watches." Coulson's voice said through their comms. Natasha checked her watch. She tapped on the screen, bringing the blueprint up into a holograph. After they both memorized it she brought it back into her watch.

"We'll go in through the side back door and search from the back to the front." Barton said. Natasha nodded.

A windy, dirt road led to the house Gerard was staying in. The house stood out like a giant among mortals. It's white, two-story elegance in sharp contrast with the greenery surrounding it.

Barton took point as Natasha watched his six. Their ears were in perfect tune to any new noise and their eyes caught any movement. A fly buzzed in the window, searching for an escape. Everything was stalk still and suffocatingly silent. Until they both heard a slight creak coming from the room to their left.

Their eyes caught on e another's and Natasha made ready to open the door as Clint raised his gun (No matter how much he loved his bow, a bow would have been inconvenient in an op like this). This being only their fourth op working together, they managed to be in pretty good sync. He nodded to her and a moment later she pushed open the door.

Inside was a bare room with a brown, wooden table in the middle with shelves lining the walls. Natasha frowned. They had _both_ heard something from within this room. The chance that it was just the house was very slim.

She stayed on edge, straining for any sounds or movements. So, when a shape came flying from behind them, she instantly caught the movement, but a second too late. Gerard had been crouched in a high shelf and had tackled Barton to the ground. He landed on top of him and, while he still had the slight advantage of surprise, had knocked him out. Natasha crouched into a fighting stance, a knife in her hand. Gerard seemed to be unarmed, but that didn't mean he wasn't deadly.

She swiped at him with the knife and he jumped back. She went in to stab him and he blocked her arm. He stepped across her body as he grabbed onto the arm that she held her knife in and pulled it into a lock. Frustrated, she dropped the knife to keep her arm from getting broken. She twisted and punched his side and he let go. A series of blocks and punches were exchanged.

Natasha's mind was whirling. He was good, better competition that she'd had with anyone at SHIELD with the exception of the man unconscious on the floor not three yards away from her. Barton probably had a concussion judging from the way his head had been hit. Natasha let herself get distracted. She blocked a second too late and found herself stumbling back, a fir erupting in her ribs.

From there Gerard seemed to be on the offensive. He had backed Natasha up to a wall when she kicked him in the shin. Hard. He cursed but didn't falter. Her back was against a counter and he had a forearm to her jugular.

Her vision was growing fuzzy. She tried to escape, but there were no flaws in his hold. His forearm was crushing her windpipe and constricted her breaths. The corner of the counter was biting into her back, but that discomfort seemed distant compared to her lack of air. Black clouded her vision until finally, she couldn't see any more. The control she had over her body disappeared.

When Natasha awoke she was bound to a metal chair, unfortunately not her first time. She kept her head bowed and listless. There was ragged breathing behind her and just the tiniest brush against her palm. She opened her eyes.

"I see you've finally joined us," Gerard said. Natasha took in her surroundings. She was tied to a chair. His own chair back to back with hers, Barton was restrained in the same fashion. No windows. Only one door.

"Didn't know you were with SHIELD now," He said, the statement obviously directed towards Natasha.

"Well we all have our secrets." Natasha said. Gerard shrugged and pulled out a knife.

"SHIELD's been a pain in the *ss." He said, crouching down to Natasha's level. "I think it's time to send another message." Natasha swallowed and set her jaw, they had both seen what was left of the victims.

His knife sliced her arm. Natasha blinked and bit her nails into her palms. A trick she had learned to distract herself from the real pain. He grinned, "This will be fun."


	11. Chapter 10

**So sorry for not updating a while... A lot of stuff has changed in my life lately. Well, i hope you like this chapter :)**

"Allow yourself to trust again and refuse to let one person from your past define how you respond to everyone else"

Natasha's cat suit had been designed by the red room. Armed with various built-in weapons, it proved a lethal weapon by itself. On top of the knuckles was a knife that could be rotated open with a flick of the thumb. And so, from the moment she woke up, Natasha had been quietly sawing away at the ropes that bound her to both Barton and the chair.

Her blood dripped onto the floor. A fiery pain had engulfed her wound. The cut he had made was deep, but not enough as to worry about bleeding out.

Gerard had a sadistic look on his face, "This will be fun." Natasha set her jaw and braced herself. Physical pain was only temporary. She could handle this. Gerard got up and grabbed a rag. He grabbed Natasha's head and pulled it back. Forcing her jaw open he stuffed eth rag into her mouth.

"We don't want the neighbors to hear do we? That would be messy." He walked over to Barton, who received the same treatment.

He could feel her quietly sawing away at the rope that bound his left wrist. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for her, Gerard decided to inflict most of his wrath onto her. So far, Gerard had given 3 knife wounds, a fractured wrist, and multiple blows to Natasha. She could hold up. She was the god*mn Black Widow, of course she could handle this. He had twisted his hand slightly to monitor her pulse, make sure she was okay.

"You know, it's so much better it you just embrace the pain. Yield to the pain." Gerard said. Her subtle cutting stopped and her pulse skyrocketed. Barton craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Natasha. He could only see one of her eyes, and it seemed glassy. On top of her rapid pulse, her fingers had started drumming against his hand. He heard her stifle a gasp as he cut her again. The tapping on his hand continued. Barton concentrated on it. His subconscious had already picked up the pattern, but had not yet thought to alert his consciousness. After a minute, he made sense of the tapping. Dash dash dot dash dot dot dot dash dot dash. G… B… K…

'what the hell?' Barton thought. GBK. BKG. KGB. Gerard was KGB. He brushed a finger on Natasha's hand to stall her fingers as she made a final cut with her knife. Gerard turned around to set the knife down on a tray and retrieved a needle. By the time he turned around, Barton had decided to grace him with the gift of unconsciousness with a blow to the head. He turned to Natasha, she nodded in response. Grabbing his abandoned gun from the floor, he shot Gerard in the head.

"Multiple knife wounds and a possible concussion." Barton said. Having been extracted from Ukraine, a medical team was now assessing both their injuries; Natasha's being of higher priority.

"I'm fine," Natasha said, struggling to sit up.

"No, lay down," Barton said, pushing her back down. "You've lost a lot of blood." Natasha rolled her eyes and lay back down.

"He was KGB huh?" Barton asked. Having experienced the boredom of Medical before, Barton had come to visit Natasha.

"Yeah," Natasha said, turning away.

"You okay?"

Natasha turned around to look at him. "Look, we all have sh*t from our past that we'd rather not deal with or ever think of again. Today, Gerard reminded me of something that I'd rather not think about ever again."

Barton nodded. "I know. We all have things we'd rather not remember, but if you keep suppressing all that sh*t, one day its going to come back a bite you. Believe me, I know. So here's a suggestion, talk. I'm not saying confess every little detail, but if you don't find some way to vent, it'll eat you up, the past. It's a b*tch like that." Natasha fingered the blanket and stayed quiet.

Two days later

"I see you finally got out of Medical," Barton said as Natasha made to stand by him in the otherwise empty training room. "It's h*ll, but at least they put TV's in, I mean before that it-"

"They brainwashed us." She said. It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about. "They wiped our emotions away. It made it so much easier - killing." He nodded, just listening. "They would strap you down to a table and just…" Natasha shook her head. "The pain, it was so intense. And they wouldn't stop until they thought you were embracing it."

"Yield to the pain,"

"It got to the point where if someone said that, your body just immediately shut your emotions down." She said, letting her hand fall to her side.

"You seemed alright considering the circumstances with Gerard."

"That's because it's been a year and half." Natasha said, tucking curl behind one ear. "But, it was awful. To just feel nothing, to not care about anything, to do anything anyone ever asked."

Barton nodded. "I won't tell you that I understand or can relate in some way, because I honestly can't. So I'll do the next best thing. Your past is your past for a reason. You can't ignore it, or run away from it. It will always be a part of you. But you have control over yourself now. You are the only one who can determine your future. Not me. Not Fury. Not anyone else. Just you. It's all in your hands now." Natasha gave a slight nod of her head, the closest to a thank you she had ever given. As she walked out her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and headed out the door.

"Agent Romanoff," Coulson said as she walked into his office. "The council has issued mandatory psychology evaluations."

"Why now." Natasha said. "I've gone on four missions with SHIELD. Why start now?"

"From what we understand, you have led a very difficult life. We need to make sure your okay."

"And why would you assume I am not okay?" Natasha cocked her head to one side.

"Many people with similar pasts have suffered from PTSD and other difficulties. From the life you have led I would be incredibly surprised if you didn't have some form of PTSD or suffer from nightmares." He said, pursing his lips slightly. "Do you have nightmares Agent Romanoff?"

Natasha looked at him head on. She had never been one to admit weakness. "We all have things that haunt us," she said carefully. "It comes with this line of business."

"Your sessions start today and will go on once a week for an hour until you have been cleared by your Psychiatrist."

"Miss Romanoff pleased to meet you." Natasha looked at the man. He was tall, African American, and had warm brown eyes. "I'm Andrew." He motioned for her to sit in a chair, which she obliged to do.

He flipped through a file, which she assumed to be hers.

"Tell me how you and Agent Barton met," He asked, looking at her.

"He was sent to kill me. He cornered me in a warehouse. And then, instead of completing his mission, offered me an out."

Andrew nodded, "And what were you feeling when you found yourself cornered?"

"Honestly," Natasha said, "I didn't care. I think… Part of me wanted him to kill me. For it to be over."

"For what to be over?"

"I've done horrible things in my life. I thought it would just be easier if he just killed me."

"Do you still feel that way?"

Natasha paused, carefully depicting her next words. "When I joined SHIELD I felt like I was going straight. A chance to compensate for all the death."

"You were raised by a branch of the KGB, the red room." Andrew stated, clearly wanting her to elaborate. Natasha remained silent, her eyebrows frowning slightly and her eyes distant. "They recruited you when you were six," He said after a long pause, which he was rewarded with more silence. And thus, the one sided conversation continued for the rest of the hour.

"How was the evaluation?" He asked.

"Frankly, I was surprised she talked at all, knowing her reputation." Andrew said. "She opened up at first sir, but when the subject of her up bringing was brought up she seemed to clam up."

"What did she talk about?" Fury asked.

"She explained a little more in depth of why she joined SHIELD."

"What else."

"That's about it." Andrew said. "I think recruiting her was a wise decision. One I hope we won't regret. But I think she just wanted to start over. To have a new chance."


End file.
